Justice in Murder
by Zohh
Summary: In which Callie freaks out and uses a not-so-clean set of vocabulary. Many homicide attempts to ensue. Callie/Erica-esque.


K. So. This was written about a year ago, after the season four finale. Posting it because DianeB wanted to read one of my many variations on what happened _after_, and this one actually amuses me. Rating solely based on the copious amounts of language.

* * *

Dammit. Fucking. A.

Dammit. Fucking. A.

_Dammitfuckinga! _

Okay. So. I officially can't breath. Or move. Or function, for that matter. It takes me nearly five minutes just to open the door to our apartment, and another ten to make it to the couch. To which I collapse into, using every bit of energy that I have left in me to keep myself to screaming.

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my _fucking_ God.

I can't believe I did that. I honestly cannot believe that I actually did that. Fucking a! And now I'm swearing worse than a drunken man.

Caramba maldito. Caramba maldito. _Caramba maldito!_

And now I'm swearing in Spanish.

The room looks smaller. Did the room shrink? Did Cristina have time to shrink the apartment, or something? Where is Cristina? Is she in her room? Was she still at the hospital when I left? Did she see me leave?

_Maldito!_

I'm actually kind of glad that Erica's pager went off. Really. It saved us from the inevitable awkwardness that would have fallowed the ending of our kiss. Which was more of a make-out session, really, but that just makes it seem too teenage-like. Mm. But. Erica does kiss well. I found that out earlier, though, when she kissed me in the elevator in front of Mark.

Mark! He saw us. He was watching us. I'm going to kill him.

I finally find the ability to move, so I slide my jacket off and remove my shoes, and try to plot Mark's death. It's no use, though, because I'll go to jail no matter what. Fuck my life. Fuck my fucking life.

"Dammit fucking a!" I'm pacing now. I don't know when I got up from the couch and started walking, but I am. I also probably shouldn't swear this much. I am glad, however, that Cristina either didn't hear me, or is not here yet. I used God's name in vain not too long ago, which probably isn't a good think. But I highly doubt that he'll smite me for that, because that was _after_ I kissed Erica Hahn. Who's a girl. Which goes against my religion. I think. Not quite sure since I never really read the entirety of the Bible. But my father did, and he told me it was a sin.

So now I'm going against my father's words.

And now I think I'm going to kill Erica Hahn, too. Because she kissed me first. Yes. That's a perfectly good reason, so I'll just use that when I go to court for charges against murder.

Wait. That's not exactly fair. Sloan was in the elevator with us, and he went on about how he could handle the two of us in bed. Perhaps she was only doing it to mess with him. Yes. That seems perfectly logical.

Okay. Now my legs hurt. As I fall back into the couch, panic starts to spread through me. What if Erica only kissed me in the first place because of Sloan? Then that would mean that me kissing her in front of the hospital was a mistake, because she only wanted to mess with Mark!

Fucking. A.

I hate my life.

I suddenly lose interest in murdering Erica when I realize that this all started when Addison strolled back in to Seattle and asked me if I learned how to speak the _Vagina Monologues._ Crossing out both Mark and Erica's names, I place Addison first on my list of people that need to die. Preferably with me committing the homicide.

Sighing, I also realize that killing Addison would be a bad idea because people actually like her, un like Sloan, so I wouldn't just be hurting her.

The scene outside of the hospital, Erica freaking out over her keys and all, replays through my mind, after my attempts to think of other things fail.

Alright. Here it goes. So. I try to talk. Fail. I kiss her. Not fail. Because after a moment of instant surprise and then hesitation, her hands make there way to my face.

My fucking God. She kissed me back. Mother fucker, she kissed me back! And that, grazing me teeth? Yeah. That's her tongue.

So I most definitely should not kill Erica Hahn. Because she can kiss. Well. Really well. I almost feel bad for Mark, because Erica kept turning him down, so he never, and will never, get the chance to kiss her. Because it's pretty fantastic.

Dammit. Fucking. A.

I have to go to work tomorrow.

Dammit. Fucking. A.

And, obviously, Erica will be there.

_Dammitfuckinga!_

I should not have kissed her. I should not have kissed. How many people saw us? They'll probably be talking about tomorrow. Those damn nurses have nothing better to do. And now everyone is going to think that I'm gay. I'm not.

Lesbian. It really is a strange word. But not. It comes from the word _Lesbo_. I learned all about that in tenth grade social studies. World history. Sappho. Everything. Well, sort of. My teacher briefly covered it. I still learned about it, in a way.

I'm not a Lesbian. I just…like women. A woman. Just one. Erica. And I like kissing her. Even though it's only been twice.

Caramba maldito.

I'm swearing in Spanish again because I like kissing Erica Hahn and I'll probably have to see her at work tomorrow.

Fuck.

The chief. What if he saw us?

Fuck!

Bailey. I'm more terrified of her.

"Fucking a!" Still unsure about Cristina's whereabouts, I jumped a little in surprise when her door shot open and she walked out.

"Seriously, Torres. Some of us enjoy sleep." her voice sounded groggy. "What exactly are you doing, anyway, making so much noise?"

"Nothing. Sorry. I'll be quieter." I clench my hands around the nearest pillow and watch as she stalks back into her room.

Dammit. Fucking. A.

I fucking kissed fucking Erica Hahn and now I have no fucking clue as to what is going to fucking happen between us.

Mm. I now have a new sense appreciation for the word _fuck_ and all variations of it.

But. I don't normally swear this much. Seriously. It's pointless. I usually hate it.

I allow myself to be hypocritical tonight, though, because I kissed Erica Hahn and then her pager went off before we could say anything.

So.

Dammit. Fucking. A.

* * *

Extremely out of character, yes, but like I said before it amuses me. And if anyone is curious as to what the A is for in Fucking a, it's ass. Lame, I know, but it is a saying that I frequently use. When my mother is out of earshot, of course.


End file.
